He may be a teddy bear, but he can still kick your ass.

Never wake a were-bear, especially without coffee

Marcus woke up from his sleep, awakened by the sunlight piercing through the small window opposite his bed. Opening his blue eyes, darkened by sleep, he groggily took in the sight of his small cabin room. It wasn't a large cabin, only one room with a small addition for a bathroom, and the majority of his cabin was taken up by the bed and fireplace he used to cook with as well as for heat. Everything was big; it had to be since Marcus was a were-bear. Were-bears tend to be quite a bit larger than the typical human male. Hell, they tended to be quite a bit larger than the typical shifter male. Running a hand through his mussed up hair, which stuck up in dark brown clumps from sleeping with his face smooshed into his lumpy pillow, Marcus sat up with a small groan. He rolled out of bed onto his feet, feeling much older than his 21 years. Marcus suspected it may have to do with the niggling feeling of emptiness he'd been feeling since his birthday a few months back. It was persistant, like a bug bite in his brain that never faded away. And it was damn irritating. He walked over to the fireplace, quickly stoking a fire and placing a kettle of water over it on the hanging metal hook that could swing over the flame.

Looking over at the empty side of his large bed, the feeling became more noticeable. He knew exactely what he was missing, but he wasn't willing to hope for the blessing his nature so desired. Chuckling darkly to himself, he scrubbed his face roughly.

Get over yourself, boy. I deserve a mate, even if you don't think you do.

"Yeah, well, we're kinda the same person, so it's a little problematic," Marcus responded to his inner bear, speaking out loud since there wasn't anyone around. 

It isn't problematic at all. The only problem we have is that your stupidity is making us unhappy, which makes us irritable. And we both now that an irritable bear is worse than, as you humans say, "a bull in a china shop."

Marcus grunted in response, not wanting to admit that his bear was right. Were-bears are usually friendly and simple creatures, who like to meander through every situation without a fuss. This usually means that it is hard to make a were-bear particularly unhappy, but when one is... it's best to take cover. 

And that is what Marcus had done the day of his 21st birthday, when the unhappiness had become a nagging sensation. Marcus had, in usual were-bear fashion, taken the straight-forward and simple route and packed up and become a hermit. He now lived in the middle of his bears' territory, avoiding society in an attempt to avoid causing destruction because of his unhappiness. It has worked so far, mostly because no one ever has come deep enough into his territory to disturb his peace.

A shrill whistle disturbed Marcus's thoughts, drawing his attention to the now boiling kettle. He removed it and set it aside as he went to get supplies for his morning coffee. The only problem was, he noted as he looked through his supply cabinet, that he ran out of coffee and had forgotten to get more on his last trip to town. Marcus growled loudly as he slammed the cabinet door shut. "Damn it. I need to go to town now." Marcus swiftly spun around, his face still in a dark frown, and pulled on some ripped jeans over his boxers, and put on a navy t-shirt. Marcus was not a morning person, so the idea of having to sacrifice his solitude this early seemed hellish to be blatantly honest. As he yanked on his work boots, he prayed no one would try to talk to him once he got to town. He might just rip of their head. Verbally, not physically of course... maybe. 

Stomping out of his cabin, Marcus repeated his plea once more. He was already in a foul mood, and feeling guilty later would just make him feel worse.

Next chapter, Marcus' first encounter with Honey? Hmmm?